


It Tolls For Thee

by kallistrate



Category: Death Note, Death Note & Related Fandoms
Genre: Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Romance if you squint, wammy's house
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 05:17:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5855581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kallistrate/pseuds/kallistrate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day after Mello leaves the Wammy's House, the students are informed of L's death. Matt hurts, Near appears indifferent, Liz ponders, Linda puts on a brave face and Chance muses. In truth, it's just another abnormal day at the orphanage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> My goal with this fanfiction was to focus on the reaction of an average Wammy’s House student to the announcement of L’s death and its consequences, and to explore what said student might think of the main characters (in particular Near and Mello). I hope that my OCs are believable, and that I have conveyed the atmosphere of the Wammy’s House (as I speculate it to be) accurately. This is the first fanfiction I have published on this site, so constructive criticism is appreciated. Thank you :)

Liz woke from a fitful sleep. Her eyes snapped open and for a second she thought she had forgotten to breathe, as her heart skipped a beat. That in itself would have been enough to make her panic these days. She took a deep breath and relaxed back into the mattress. The roots of her hair were damp with sweat, and her heartbeat was loud as steps on the stairs. She had had another nightmare, but as she tried to remember it, she felt the memory trickling away. She had been trapped, that she could recall, though where or how was a mystery. She thought she had died at the end. Died of a heart-attack, of course. Funny how she now found it much more terrifying than all the more gruesome forms of death she had investigated. Funny how a sudden pain in the chest could be scarier than a gash across the stomach, or a stab in the back.

She looked over to where Linda slept beside her, in the second of the twin beds. The other girl turned peacefully in her sleep, and Liz groaned in light desperation at the realization that she still had many hours of restless slumber until morning. She turned away from Linda, towards the window. The curtains were closed, but the moon still managed to shine through, lightly brushing Liz’s blankets with its light. Liz frowned at it and pulled the covers closer to her chin. She had chosen the bed furthest from the door because she felt more protected that way, but she had never stopped to consider the dangers that could come from the window.

_It’s closed_ , she said to herself. She was sure. She always closed it, and pulled the curtains before going to bed. _Besides, the gates are locked, and it’s unlikely anyone would want to break in here. And the burglar alarm!_ She remembered suddenly, relaxing. _Then again, someone could manage to deactivate it…_ she argued with herself, before sternly concluding: _oh, for God’s sake, I’m being silly. I’m not even really scared anyway, because I know it’s unlikely to happen – very unlikely. Maybe 5%..._

Liz sighed, and attempted to sleep. In a way, she was grateful of the light: anything to avoid being in total darkness. In the dark, you could let your imagination run wild. You could imagine that anything was standing over you, and you couldn’t prove for certain that it wasn’t there because you couldn’t see it… but you can’t prove a negative anyway… Liz reminded herself, and it was with a number of similar reflections that she fell back to sleep.

When she woke up, she couldn’t remember the dream, or even the feeling of her heart giving a momentary start. All she could remember was the bright light of the moon shining through the curtains.  
At seven o’clock, she got out of bed and turned off Linda’s alarm clock. She opened the curtains to let in the new born sunlight and shook Linda’s shoulder lightly. Her roommate groaned.

“Come on, you have to wake up” Liz told her. Linda made an indistinct protest. Liz sighed. “I’m going for a wash, when I come back I’ll wake you up again, okay?” she told her. Linda nodded into her pillow. _I’m too soft on her…_ Liz thought with only a hint of amusement as she collected her washing bag and clothes which she had laid out the evening before. _Thank God it’s Saturday_ she thought as she made her way along the landing to the girl’s bathroom, yawning. She hadn’t slept too well, and the thought of having to take lessons today was horrifying. 

Eventually, she managed to get Linda down to breakfast without too many complaints. The dining room was already half full. Roger had already eaten, as usual, but Blackberry and Matt were still helping themselves to Weetabix and toast while Mantel was finishing off his tea.

“There any jam left?” Linda inquired, in her distinctive liverpudlian accent, as she grabbed a packet of biscuits and sat down in her usual chair.

“Of course not, it’s Saturday” said Mantel immediately, not looking up. _They do the shopping on Monday, so no jam at the Weekend…_ Liz let out a short chuckle as Linda rolled her eyes. “Where’s Near?” she asked again. This time, it was Mantel’s turn to roll his eyes “Saturday” he repeated, as though that explained everything, which of course it did: Near always slept in on weekends. Linda knew this, but that didn’t stop her asking where the white haired boy was every bloody morning. Before Linda could say anything else, Mantel got up abruptly, took his empty cup of tea to the sink and exited the dining room. Linda shook her head with a hint of a smile.

“So…” Blackberry started, catching Liz’s eye over his cup of cocoa. Liz took a deep breath. It was time. She knew what was coming. They had discussed it at length the evening before. They had considered simply being patient, but they knew the advantages of certainty as soon as possible outweighed the risks of a negative reaction.  
“Matt, we were wondering about what happened yesterday”

“I don’t know what you mean” Matt said after a beat, staring down at his Weetabix with an expression between bored and wary.

Liz sighed in light annoyance (quietly enough to go unnoticed). There was no point in pretending: Matt knew perfectly well what they were referring to. Linda was already silently signalling to Blackberry to “abort”, but Matt seemed to notice her. He rolled his eyes, and Liz could almost see the sprinkle of anger in them, like pepper in a rice bowl. But seconds later it was gone, amalgamated into the dish.

“You all know perfectly well what happened yesterday” he said, taking a spoonful of his cereal. There was a hint of mockery to his tone.

Liz had finally been provoked to speak. “All we know is that –” she stopped. Finally she saw why Linda had wanted to abort. Mello had been Matt’s best and likely only true friend at the house. It couldn’t be easy for him to discuss it. Why hadn’t she considered that before? 

Luckily for her, Blackberry had her back. “We were worried, that’s all” he said.

That was half true, Liz thought. She had never been close to Mello. She had only ever wished she got as high marks as him. She was scared of him, in truth, like all the children were, but more recently she had become used to him. She was even able to join in a conversation with him without feeling overly awkward. He had become a presence in her life at the House, and now he was gone. Yes, she was worried, but within reason – he was Mello, after all, and Mello could look after himself. More than truly worried, she was curious. Was that bad of her? 

Matt laughed, and the sound grated on Liz’s ears like chalk on a blackboard. Yes, it was bad of her. Linda had been right for once. Then again, though she wasn’t the cleverest student at Wammy’s, and Liz beat her more often than not, she always did seem to be right about these things.

“I don’t know any more than you do” Matt said, and with that, he left the dining room, breakfast half eaten. Liz let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding.  
“We shouldn’t have said anything” said Linda. _Yes, thank you for stating the obvious._

Blackberry’s look of guilt mirrored the one on Liz’s face. “I... I suppose Roger will probably mention something about it anyway” he said uncertainly. Liz nodded.

“Ah, there you are” 

Liz jumped and let out a small shriek, as she always did whenever someone spoke from behind her without her expecting it. It was her method of self-defence: just as cats hissed, she shrieked. That was her justification for it, anyway. Of course, this habit of hers led to a series of people amusing themselves by jumping at her from behind and shouting “boo” in her ear. In this particular case, however, the reaction provoked had been unintentional. It was just Martha, their carer.

“Mr. Roger says everyone’s to go into the chapel when the bells ring for prayers today” Martha said.

“Why?” Blackberry asked. Neither he nor Liz ever went to the chapel, as they were not religious. Few of the students were, in fact. The Wammy’s House hosted students of all sorts of different cultures and creeds, but few of them were practicing believers.

“You’ll find out when you get there, won’t you?” Martha replied with the patience she had learned after years of dealing with inquisitive children.

“Well,” said Linda, as soon as Martha had left the room “That was right on cue, wasn’t it?”

Liz laughed, and Blackberry went for his signature shy smile.

At midday, twelve o’clock on the dot, the bells rang for prayer, and for once the little chapel was full.

No one even bothered to pretend they were there for any reason other than Roger’s invitation, but even so, the old man went through with the charade of giving everyone a minute or two for “individual prayer”. Finally, he got to the point.

“I’m sure you are all aware that Mello has left us” said Roger. Liz unconsciously looked across the room at Matt. He was wearing his goggles, and she couldn’t see his expression properly.

“He has chosen to leave us. But what you do not know is what prompted his departure. I think you all have the right to know…” the director took a shaky breath. “L is dead” he said.

Silence.

No one needed to be told twice. They knew what he had said. They had all heard him. 

“He was killed by Kira, and Watari with him”

Yes, that was obvious. Everything about what Roger had said was perfectly clear. Straightforward. Except… not. Just how was L defeated by Kira? How was that even possible?  
L was their model. He was perfection, to which they all aspired. He couldn’t have failed. But he did. Obviously he did. Roger was almost certainly not lying, and his information was almost certainly not wrong, so, beyond all reasonable doubt, L must be dead.

Okay.

L is dead.

Liz repeated it to herself. _L is dead. L is dead. L is dead. L is dead…_ She wasn’t really sure how she felt about it. She blinked, and changed the mental subject. Of course, this was why Mello left. L’s successors… Mello or Near… Had L chosen Near after all…? Or had he simply not decided yet? Either way, she could understand Mello’s choice. Had it been her, she wouldn’t have wanted to have to be in close proximity to someone who had beaten her, been ranked above her definitively. And even if L hadn’t decided yet, like that of any king whose succession was unclear, L’s death would likely have sparked civil war. Of course, knowing Roger, he would have proposed some kind of truce; he would have suggested that the two work together. Mello would never have agreed, Liz knew, he would have left rather than work with Near. The thought of Near gave Liz pause. She searched the chapel to find his small, pyjama-clad form, watching Roger as though the matter didn’t concern him in the least. Would he have agreed to work together? It would not have surprised Liz. Near liked Mello, despite everything. But it was easy to like somebody whom you know you are better than, Liz thought with a hint of bitterness.

It was a shame, Liz supposed as she followed the crowd out of the chapel and into the clear, bright light of day, that Mello had never realised just how good he was. He was always so focused on the fact that he was not quite good enough. She smiled to herself. Absence had bred fondness. She would never have thought of him so sympathetically when he shared a roof with her, though she had always known that they shared a predicament: the obsession with success, and always being just a few steps away from it. Except he had been the second, she thought, bitter again, and she was seventh.

Near, Mello, Matt, Mantel, Karin, Chance and then her. Which wasn’t altogether fair, she thought, since Chance worked about half as hard as her and seemed to get by on pure luck… and the fact that he wasn’t pathologically unable to raise his hand in class whenever a teacher asked a question. Sometimes (often) she thought she hated him as much as Mello hated Near. She wondered whether he felt the same pity-like affection for her that she sensed Near felt for Mello. The thought made her want to vomit. She could understand Mello now better than she had ever been able to before. If absence had not bred fondness, it had given her the time to look with her mind’s eye beyond the bitterness, the anger, the ferocity that he displayed, and to not only comprehend his situation, but to feel it as he felt. For the first time since she had heard of his departure, she hoped to herself that he would make it. Not that it would actually do any good, but she hoped all the same.

Almost unwittingly, she scanned the thinning crowd, searching for L’s newly-appointed successor. Near was among the first to have reached the house, twirling his white hair around his fingers. He hardly ever talked to anyone, but occasionally some eventuality would force Liz into his company, and at those times they might happen to converse. Liz sighed. She couldn’t pretend to hate Near. Others wondered what Linda saw in him, but Liz couldn’t help but think that she knew. When they did happen to talk, more often than not they agreed, but more than that, they had meaningful conversation. She still remembered a discussion on John Stuart Mill’s _On Liberty_ that had kept her inspired for days. Near was all right, really. 

Liz gritted her teeth. She couldn’t help but like Mello and Near, and yet she disliked them both. Mello had no right to be so rude and violent all the time. Liz was only seventh and equally frustrated by the person immediately ahead of her, and yet she tried so hard to be polite always. And as for Near, he needed no sympathy; he was first, what more did he want? Now, now, Liz, she admonished herself, you know it isn’t always that simple. Yes, she knew, of course she knew. She sighed. Not that her sympathy would matter to either of them. She was nobody compared to them, in all honesty.

She paused in the middle of the grounds. She had been walking deliberately slowly, trying to delay her re-entrance into the building. It was a true English summer’s day. The sun was shining in defiance of the few clouds that marred the sky, and with a light cardigan on, it was comfortably warm. Liz closed her tired eyes. She wished she could sleep right there, in the fresh green grass, blanketed by the sun’s rays. Nothing could touch her out here, she thought irrationally, and even if it did, this wouldn’t be a bad place to die.

“Liz” she heard a voice call and her eyes snapped open. Chance’s blonde head obscured her view of the sun as he stepped in front of her, a smile tugging at his mouth.

Liz masked her surprise immediately, and rearranged her features into a neutral expression. Chance laughed. “Can’t you ever make a normal face?” he asked mockingly.

Liz grimaced involuntarily before resuming her neutral expression. “What do you mean? This is my normal face”

Chance shook his head in amusement. “It’s your usual face” he conceded, “but not your natural one”

Liz resisted the urge to let the annoyance she felt translate into her eyes, though she may have failed. “What is my natural face then?” she asked, making it clear how stupid she found his comment.

“I don’t know” he said, “You tell me”

Liz was no longer bothering to disguise her irritation, and she shook her head in dismissal, looking away. Should she start walking back to the house? 

“So, what do you make of this news then?” Chance asked her, unperturbed.

Liz shrugged, unsure of what to say. She noted distantly that he had avoided mentioning what the news actually was, and wondered whether that was intentional.

“Tell you what, I get why Mello left now” Chance said. Liz looked at him sharply. How had he been thinking the same thing as her? Do you? She wanted to ask him, bitterly, but she didn’t. Instead she said, noncommittally, “Yeah, me too”. Then she remembered that he also had a rival, he also had someone to beat. She looked into his brown eyes. 

“I don’t suppose many people will miss him” Chance said plainly, though his smile was a little sad now.

“They’ll… we’ll miss his presence. And maybe Near. And Matt will, of course” Liz replied.

“Of course” Chance echoed. “You reckon they’ll manage to do it?” She didn’t need to ask ‘do what?’, it was obvious what he meant, he couldn’t possibly mean anything else.

“Depends” Liz replied. “No one told us how far L got in the first place. I expect now that Mello’s gone, Near will have access to L’s case files” 

“He must have gotten too far for Kira’s liking” Chance said. Liz thought for a moment. “But… how did he know the name? No one knows it, not us, not Roger. Only Mr. Wammy, or rather, Watari. How could Kira have got a hold of it?”

“God knows” said Chance “The Second Kira might have something to do with it. That one can kill with just a face, right? And we know L must have been in contact with Kira at some point, and Kira got in contact with the Second Kira. Maybe the Second Kira saw L and told Kira the name”

“Hm” Liz said, “Yeah, could be” She didn’t have time right now to analyse the suggestion in full, and she could tell Chance didn’t either. 

“Funny though, isn’t it?” said Chance “That Kira knows something more about L than we do” 

Liz had to smile a little. “I suppose” They hadn’t known L much at all, really. Only what they had been told, or what they had deduced from his meetings with them through the TV screen. Nevertheless, she felt a lump in her throat and her eyes began to water. She turned away quickly, hoping he wouldn’t notice. She fought the tears away, wiped her eyes and turned back, only to find that Chance’s eyes were welling up too. 

“I guess it’s really ridiculous, isn’t it?” Chance said, laughing. 

“Yes, very much so” Liz agreed, smiling broadly, her eyes shining with unshed tears. It was so irrational, all of it. All this trouble for a man they hadn’t even known… Almost tragic, really, Liz thought, except she didn’t do tragic, no one at Wammy’s did. She sighed bracingly, wiping the wetness from her eyes, still smiling. “Oh well” she said, turning to go back in to the House.

“Oh, I forgot” Chance called after her “Roger said we’re going to work together on the Chelsea Murders Project”

She turned to look at him, and her mind flew straight back to Mello and Near. It was an irrational thought, but he looked at her as though he had just realised what she was thinking. His brow creased, and his right hand was fiddling with the hem of his shirt. _Look at us both,_ she thought, _worried over that stupid project when L’s dead and Mello’s gone. I’m not Mello, and you’re not Near. Besides, you’ll never get it done on time without me, idiot._

She smiled. “Okay then” she said, and she walked back into the House. Sure, she hated him. She had to. But she also liked him a little bit, just enough to see them through this project together. And then, in the next exam, she would beat him. 


	2. Part 2

Chance stood leaning on the doorjamb, studying the redhead sitting cross-legged on one of the twin beds. In his right hand he held a small suitcase which contained the majority of his personal belongings. Chance raised his chin a little, his eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly as he wondered when would be the most strategic moment to speak. Fortunately for him, the other boy anticipated him.

“You moving in?” Matt asked him, not looking up from his game console. For all his efforts he could not keep the note of accusation from his voice. _No use looking at me like that, Mattie,_ Chance thought, _I didn’t make your precious Mello run off._ He sighed. He had to feel sorry for the guy, he supposed.

“Roger’s orders” Chance said, smiling amusedly (as if Roger would really give a damn who moved in where. It was Martha that really cared about these things, and it was her orders that the students followed – then again, Chance reflected, no one could really make any of the Wammy students do anything, except for L of course). “Saving space and all that, now we’ve got a spare bed. Practicality before all” he stated sarcastically, wondering whether it was too soon to start making eye-rolls and ironic comments.

Matt looked right at him, and though his eyes were covered by his ever-present goggles, Chance could feel the denunciation they must hold. _We’ve got a spare bed because Mello’s gone,_ Chance heard them say, angrily. But Matt was not the type to demonstrate anger for long, so he attempted a smile, and had Chance not known any better he might have thought it was genuine.

“Come on in, I guess,” Matt welcomed, leaning back onto the headboard of his bed. 

Chance carried his suitcase to the other bed and sat down on it. He couldn’t be bothered to unpack right now, and the thick silence in the air disturbed him more than he would care to acknowledge, so he fished inside his suitcase for a book and settled himself on the bed to read it. He had barely started it when he was interrupted by someone knocking timidly on the open door.

“’Sup Liz?” Matt greeted the short girl standing in the doorframe mustering some of his characteristic nonchalance.

Chance surveyed the girl smiling. She looked as awkward as she always did, holding a bunch of papers and eyeing them suspiciously with her narrowed brown eyes. _Does her face ever look relaxed?_ Chance wondered. 

She missed a beat before answering, “Um, nothing” she said, before quickly adding “I was just… Martha told me you’d moved in here” She addressed Chance directly now, trying to avoid eye contact with Matt.

Chance gestured to his surroundings, smirking as if to say, _Well, here I am._

Liz only scowled at him and said “I’ve printed some info on the Chelsea Murders. I printed two copies if you want to look through it before we start work tomorrow” She shrugged then, looking at him even more distrustfully than before, “Or not. Whatever” She already looked resigned to leave when Chance said, “Okay, I’ll take a copy” It might be helpful, might not be. He might not even read it, but even so, it couldn’t do any harm.

“Right” Liz said, stepping into the room to give him half of the papers she was carrying. He looked into her eyes as she handed them to him, remembering briefly the conversation they had had the day before, after Roger had told them about L. He had thought then that maybe she was alright, despite the fact that she hated him. He smiled at her, and she scowled a little before she met his eyes as her lip twitched upwards. And then she was gone.

Chance tossed the papers to the foot of the bed. Perhaps he shouldn’t have accepted them after all; they would only make him feel guilty until he actually read them. Then he remembered he didn’t do guilt.

“Roger’s got you two working together?” Matt asked him, with a faint smile.

“Yeah. I’d say we make a good team” Chance replied grinning. He was only half joking.

Matt laughed at that. “Dude, you know she hates you, right?” 

Chance allowed himself a sly smile, looking sideways at Matt for extra effect. “Yeah, I know” he said. “Still, she’ll work with me ‘cause she knows we’ll ace it. She puts practicality first”

Matt gave a small smile, shaking his head. “You don’t think she’ll lure you into a trap and stab you in the back? Wouldn’t put it past her. Though she be but little, she is fierce” he quoted.

“Maybe, if looks could kill” Chance acknowledged. Suddenly, he frowned, uncertainty flickering across his face. “You don’t think she’d actually kill me, do you?” he asked Matt, who only smiled. 

Chance sighed. “I still don’t really get why she hates me so much” Matt scoffed loudly at this and put down his video game, pushing up his goggles so that they rested on the top of his head and raising his eyebrows.

“Mate, are you serious? Like, really?”

“What?” Chance asked, confused by the other boy’s reaction. “I mean, I know I make fun of her sometimes, but not seriously. And, well, I know I’m sixth and she’s seventh, but still, I don’t hate Karin just because she’s fifth” Technically, Mello’s departure made him fifth and Liz sixth, but he thought it best not to mention that.

Matt nodded in understanding. The redhead was like him, Chance knew. Not too bothered with the leader board and more concerned about personal intellectual advancement. Chance had to admit he liked being near the top, but he wasn’t going to torment himself about grades slipping slightly or one exam going wrong. Matt had always been the same, and that was supposedly why he was such good friends with Mello, who couldn’t have been more concerned about the leader board if his life depended on it. Liz was a bit like that, he knew, only less violent. He wondered briefly why, if he was like Matt, and she was like Mello, the two of them weren’t good friends. But then of course, deep down, he knew: it was because for her, he wasn’t like Matt, he was like Near. The thought was not a pleasant one.

That’s why the Chelsea Murders Project is such a big deal. It’s like when Roger always got those two to work together on stuff. He scowled at his bedsheets. 

“I get it” Matt told him, “Nothing you can do though” 

Chance shrugged. Liz’s scowls had only ever amused him before, yet now the memory of each one grated at him like sandpaper. He glanced at the papers she had given him. I suppose I’d better read them, he thought, though a small smile had returned to his face. 

It took him five minutes to read through everything Liz had given him, and ten minutes to assimilate it. By that time, he was ready for a snack. He got up from his bed and made his way down the stairs to the dining room, hoping to forage something from the fridge. Many people at Wammy’s had regular food habits. Linda loved lollypops, Mantel couldn’t function without a cup of tea in the morning, Mello had eaten chocolate as though his life depended on it and even Liz had a special soft spot for Leibniz chocolate biscuits. She even had a special way of eating them, and it visibly irritated her whenever someone ate one without respecting her method. Chance’s personal gastronomic weakness was salt and vinegar crisps.

Making his way through the richly carpeted hallway, he passed the open door of the sitting room and noticed Near crouching on his own, as usual, doing another one of his puzzles. He looked even smaller than normal, wrapped in his baggy white pyjamas. _Does he care?_ Chance asked himself, _Does he care that he’s the new L and Mello’s left?_ Chance might have answered no, but he wasn’t totally blind. He knew that Near liked Mello despite everything, respected him even, valued his opinion on every case he examined. Why was a mystery. Chance himself neither liked nor disliked Mello, just as he neither liked nor disliked Near. All he knew was to be ready for a fight when talking to Mello, and to sharpen his wits when talking to Near. 

“All right?” Chance called to the white haired boy, stopping by the doorframe. Near did not pause, nor did he turn to look at him.

“You know, you might deign to answer for once in your life” Chance told him, already irritated, but maintaining a light tone and a smile about his mouth.

Near looked up sharply “Do you have something to say to me, Chance?” he asked in a mocking tone that didn’t bother to disguise his annoyance at being disturbed.

Chance’s smirk grew wider. “Not at all, Near, I just enjoy interrupting you” he said, sauntering off. 

For some reason, despite his objectively neutral feelings towards the kid, Near often managed to get under the blond boy’s skin. It might have been the way he never spoke to anyone, as though he deemed himself superior – and of course the fact that he was now L’s official successor could only consolidate that view. Chance knew deep down that arrogance probably – if not certainly – couldn’t be the only reason Near was quiet, but he made the consciously irrational decision to ignore the fact in order to be consistent in his bias against the kid. _I bet he doesn’t even give a damn that Mello’s gone,_ he thought bitterly, contradicting his actual opinion for the sake of self-delusion. _Because the real reason that kid gets on your nerves so much is because he reminds you of you, back when you were quiet and young and alone,_ a voice in his head told him, but he ignored it.

He had reached the dining room now, and to his surprise he found the fridge door already open and someone standing behind it.

“Hello again” he said to Liz, who looked up sharply. 

“Hi” she replied. Then, “Look at this” she gestured at the contents of the fridge. 

Chance stepped behind her to examine it and saw immediately the stacks of Swiss chocolate bars piled on the shelves. He sighed, his lips twisting upwards in a wry smile.

“At least I’ll be able to eat some without getting my head blown off” Liz said. 

Chance laughed and leaned against the counter adjacent to the fridge. “Want to share one?” he asked. Liz paused, still staring inside the fridge. Finally, she pulled out a bar of Lindt 90% cocoa dark chocolate and handed it to Chance. “Okay” she said, closing the door.

Chance unwrapped it carefully, then split it exactly in half. 

“There” he said, handing one half to Liz, who held it gingerly, sniffing it before she bit into it. Chance followed suit.

“Mmh, it’s good” Liz said, almost involuntarily. Chance laughed and Liz couldn’t seem to help but do the same. It was good, dark and rich and just bitter enough. It reminded him of Mello. He wondered whether he should take a bar up to Matt. He decided against it; he couldn’t imagine it would do any good.

“I read those papers” he told Liz as she licked some residual chocolate from her fingers. 

She looked at him strangely “Good” she said. She smiled a little, then sighed. “I’m not sure I want to go back to work tomorrow” she told him. 

He understood. So much had happened this weekend that the thought of starting a routine again was somewhat daunting. And yet that way of things at Wammy’s House, and they couldn’t let small matters like this distract them from their training. If anything, in fact, their work was more important now than ever before. 

“Yeah… But at least we’re gonna ace that Project together” he said, grinning at her. 

She smiled at him as though she wanted him to know how ridiculous she thought he was. “If you say so, Chance”

When he returned to the room he now shared with Matt, he noticed that his roommate was sitting by an open window, letting the smoke from the cigarette he held in his hands fly out into the open air. It had not been his first, either, Chance realised, noting the number of cigarette butts on the windowsill. The redhead’s face was turned away from the door, staring out into the late afternoon sky. 

He would never be the same again, Chance understood in that moment. None of them would be, not himself, or Matt, or Liz or even Near – no matter how much Chance maligned the boy. Near cared, his eyes spoke clear as day. They were armoured eyes, guarded, and in the last two days they had been more guarded than usual. No one guarded himself so much if he had nothing to hide, Chance admitted to himself, grudgingly. And despite his own professed neutrality, Chance had to confess that he cared too. He wished that he didn’t, that he had never noticed the internal anguish of the people around him, the way that Mello had suffered and lashed out over his second place, the way Near was always lonely and how Linda hurt trying to make him see that he didn’t have to be, the way Liz tormented herself over the leader board without ever finding an outlet for her anxiety, and now, the way Matt was slowly beginning to let himself slide just days after his best friend had left. Chance wished he hadn’t noticed any of it, especially since he still couldn’t understand most of it, but in the end he could only shrug it off. He could do no good to any of the people he cared about, so there was no use in trying. He closed the door of the room quietly, and slunk away into the shadows. 

His feet carried him to the garden to shed a couple of tears, careful to avoid the crowd of kids playing football. In truth, he could hardly cry, only stand perfectly still as he felt a weight inside his chest pressing down on his partly-metaphorical heart. It was not long after that that he decided he had exhausted his right to melancholy, and resolved to return to his room. If he couldn’t make Matt happier, he could at least distract him from systematically pouring poison into his lungs.

As he made his way back to the house, however, his feet took him to the girl’s end of the corridor. He stopped in front of a room decorated with two pencil sketches, perfect likenesses. One showed a smiling girl with pigtails and the other a wary looking girl with the memory of a smile about her lips. Chance knocked on the door and heard Linda’s voice inviting him in.

Linda was sitting at the stool in front of her canvas, staring out at the now setting sun. It seemed unlikely she would want to converse further, Chance mused, basking in the golden light which bathed the room. Little could distract Linda when she was at work. And as for Liz… The girl was reading a book, or had been until very recently, huddled on her own bed. Chance smiled. The weight would be gone soon, he knew. All he had to do was open his mouth.

“What are you reading?” Chance asked, smiling. There, he was able to smile now! This had been a good idea after all.

Liz looked defensive “It’s just light reading”

Chance rolled his eyes and glanced at the book’s cover, which bore intricate illustrations of dragons and magical symbols. “You don’t have to read nonfiction all the time, Liz”  
“I know” she said, as though she was going to object.

“And it doesn’t mean you’re a shallow person if you read fantasy instead of philosophy or science once in a while”

Liz pursed her lips, though she acknowledged his point. “Perhaps”

“So what’s it all about then?” he asked her, moving to sit on Linda’s bed.

Linda began to hum softly to herself as she painted. 

As the rivals conversed in such a way that might make an outsider mistake them for normal friends, normal teenagers in a normal orphanage, Linda traced dark shadows with her brush, cast by the gnarled oak tree and the setting sun onto two figures standing in the painted garden. The darkness covered them both, but between them, a small light shone, from God-knew-where. 

The sunset was so beautiful, the oak so painfully intricate, and the human figures so small and plain in contrast. But they had their own elegance, and of course, their own light. Hope was not lost for them after all, she thought.

Linda smiled a quiet smile to herself, and dipped the brush into the paint once more.

_Fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone is interested, the two figures in Linda’s painting could be interpreted as Near and Mello or as Chance and Liz, but what Linda really wants to convey is that it’s all a cycle repeating itself but that there is the hope of change, or, at the very least, of “getting out alive”, bruised but not broken, for the Wammy kids.


End file.
